


broken, as he clutches the sleeve of his jacket and begs him not to leave.

by bittertofu



Series: thirty-five ways he said 'i love you.' [26]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Hemophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 10:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11160057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittertofu/pseuds/bittertofu
Summary: One way or another, it had to end. [BAD END].





	broken, as he clutches the sleeve of his jacket and begs him not to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> they can't really be called drabbles anymore, i suppose.  
> this is the BAD END. please feel free to skip, as there will also be a GOOD END and a TRUE END in the future.  
> the pacing is kind of off. the ending is really abrupt. sorry in advance, and thank you so much for reading. i don't expect this one to get a lot of good feedback, but it is what it is. enjoy!

Akechi counted out the purple pills Dr. Takemi gave him—one, two, three—and placed them, one-by-one, on his tongue. His headaches persisted throughout the day—worsened, even, with each visualization of his end-goal—but he tried to catch them before they became uncontrollable and rendered him unconscious again. He couldn't afford to sleep now. There was too much to be done.

He stood outside of Shido's apartment, exactly where Futaba told him not to go. He felt just a little bad ignoring her warning, wanted to trust her judgment, truly; it was risky, but it just wasn't something he felt comfortable leaving up to chance. Sae Niijima was ready. The police were all ready. All they were waiting on was Akechi's go-ahead.

He'd gotten a new phone and a new number precisely so that Futaba couldn't track his movements. This he used to text Sae (“I'm moving in”) before pushing into the apartment where Shido stood by the window, staring out at the streets far, far below.

“I haven't heard from you in awhile,” Akechi said by way of greeting.

He closed the door behind him, quietly, every movement cautious. He had to be careful what he said here, what he did. He couldn't give himself away too early.

There were two other men in the room, both in black suits, and they watched Akechi with a mixture of distrust and helplessness. Distrust, because Shido's followers who were in the know had never really come around to allowing something with Akechi's powers into their inner circle; helplessness, because they had no idea what to do about Shido now.

Akechi made to approach Shido, but the two men jumped to attention and stood in between them. Akechi put up his hands to show he was harmless, but it wasn't until Shido said, “Let him pass,” that the two men stood aside, albeit reluctantly.

Akechi frowned. That Shido still had enough of his faculties to give orders, let alone recognize Akechi at all, was unexpected. Things were not, so far, going according to plan.

“You lied to me,” Shido said, and Akechi froze. “You said we'd have the Phantom Thieves in our grasp at the end of last month. It's been half a month since then, and I see no evidence of them.”

“Sorry,” Akechi answered lightly. “Things got a little out of hand. With just a little more time, I—”

“There is no more time!”

Shido moved faster than Akechi could react. In an instant, Shido's hands were around Akechi's neck, squeezing so hard Akechi saw stars. The whites of Shido's eyes were pronounced, streaked with red, and Akechi wondered, for the briefest of moments, if this was where he was going to die. At least it seemed that his plan to make Shido go berserk had worked, after all. Even the two men, leaping to grab at Shido's arms and pull him back, could not force him to let go.

Then Shido winced. Then Shido let go of Akechi and staggered back. Akechi fell to his knees, coughing and gasping for air.

“It was you,” Shido murmured, holding his head and shaking it back and forth. “You did this to me, didn't you? You damned brat...I'll kill you...”

“It must have been the Phantom Thieves,” Akechi wheezed. He wobbled back to his feet. “I'll put a stop to them, I swear it. You're so close, Shido. Don't give in now.”

Shido roared, made to lunge at Akechi a second time, but this time, the two men managed to hold him back.

“Get out of here, kid!” one of them shouted.

Akechi didn't wait another moment. He bolted out of the apartment at once.

As soon as he was out of sight of the building, he dialed up Sae Niijima.

“Akechi,” said Sae, cutting past formalities, “what's the hold up?”

“He's under careful watch, as I'd anticipated,” Akechi explained. “But I suspect I can get him to confess easily enough.”

“I don't want anyone getting hurt because of this.”

“Of course not. I'm keeping an eye on him.”

“Are you alright? You sound like you're coming down with something.”

“I'm fine.” He put a hand to his neck, rubbed at it. Winced at the tenderness. There would be ugly bruises, for sure. “In any case, are the police still in position?”

“Just waiting for your signal.”

“Good...that's good...”

Suddenly he winced, a sharp pain stabbing at his temple. It seemed the three pills he'd already taken weren't enough. He wasn't sure how many it was safe to take at once, but he didn't have the time to worry about it.

“Sorry,” he mumbled hurriedly into the receiver, “I have to go. I'll text you when the time is right.”

“Akechi—”

He hung up without waiting to hear what Sae had to say. Quickly, he popped open the bottle of painkillers and swallowed down another three. He counted—one minute, five minutes, nine minutes—and the pain slowly, slowly ebbed away. By the end of it, he was shaking. The pills made him dizzy, but he didn't have time to worry about that, either.

Shido would be moving to the Diet Building soon. Akechi had to be there to meet him when he did.

He moved quickly, keeping his head low. The last thing he wanted now was to be recognized and stopped. Thankfully, that didn't happen. He made it to the Diet Building without incident. Now all he had to do was wait. All of this, everything, would be over soon. The world would move on, and after a few months of scandal, Masayoshi Shido would be forgotten. And so would Goro Akechi.

But, it didn't have to be that way, did it?

Akechi grit his teeth as a wave of pain and nausea shook him. He leaned against the walled fence in front of the Diet Building, struggling to keep his feet. For a moment, the world wavered, just as it normally did when he entered the Metaverse. A voice, low and deep, reverberated in his skull.

_The world doesn't have to forget you, does it?_

No, he could reverse this. He could reverse all of it. He just had to hand over Akira Kurusu, like he'd promised. He just had to destroy Joker once and for all, and bring the very name of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts crumbling to its knees. There was no saving Shido now, but if Akechi could pin Shido's destruction on the Phantom Thieves, then there was still hope for him. Akechi could tell Sae they'd forced his hand, made him play the villain. She would still believe him. She would _want_ to believe him. There was probably some small part of her that even liked him as a person. He could turn this whole thing around, and finally, finally achieve the life and recognition he'd always wanted. And best of all, he would still get his revenge on Shido.

“Stop,” he hissed, putting a hand to his head. “Shut _up_.”

Laughter, hard, dark. The world returned to normal, and Akechi gasped for air, not even realizing he'd been holding his breath. His head throbbed, and his stomach turned. If not for his leaning against the wall, he was sure he'd be in a crumpled heap on the ground. Some passersby stared at him, pointing, concern and questioning evident on their faces. He smiled weakly and straightened up as best he could, politely waving. The passersby nodded at him and went on their way. It was just like people, not to get involved with difficult things if they could help it.

It wouldn't be long now. He just had to hold on a little longer.

Akechi made his way to the Diet Building proper and positioned himself in front of the pillars. It was an imposing structure, all stone with a walkway lined with trees shed for the winter. He checked the time, closed his eyes, and tried to push back the sick rising in his throat. With a trembling hand, he reached for the painkillers in his jacket, undid the cap, spilled three more of the purple pills into his hand. It would be fine to take just a bit more, wouldn't it?

Without giving it too much thought, he swallowed them back. Again, that laughter from before shook through him. This time, laughter bubbled out of him, too. He clapped a hand over his mouth, trembling. What was wrong with him? What the _hell_ was wrong with him?

“Goro...?”

Akechi froze. No. No, no, no, it couldn't be. He turned, very slowly, not even trying to mask the horror he knew was on his face.

Akira Kurusu stood maybe three feet away, his brows knit together in concern. All at once, Akechi's whole body throbbed as if he'd been hit by a truck.

_Wring his neck break his arms gouge his eyes out rip his tongue from his mouth and watch him choke on the blood snap his fingers one-by-one-by-one-by-one and laugh as he screams beneath your heel—_

 

“Kurusu...Kurusu you can't...you can't be here...”

“Futaba said you weren't answering her calls. She told me what you were doing, that you'd be here. I—”

“Don't try to stop me,” Akechi growled, taking one step back, two. “You can't be here. _Leave_!”

Akira shook his head, took a step forward for each of Akechi's steps back.

“I'm not going anywhere. You need to stop this. You'll ruin your life.”

“It's my life to do with as I will. You've ruined everything else, I won't let you ruin this, too!”

The look of shock and hurt on Akira's face made Akechi recoil, but it had to be said. Anything, anything to get Akira to leave. It was better this way. Let Akira hate him. Let Akira loathe him. The farther he was from Akechi, the better. If all went well, they'd be separated forever, anyway. After Shido's confession, Akechi would go to jail, probably for the rest of his life. It was as simple as that. He didn't need Akira making it more complicated, making Akechi second-guess himself; because what he wanted and what he needed were bitterly and diametrically opposed.

He could say it to himself, now. There was little point in lying about it, after he'd already told Futaba. He wanted Akira. He needed to let him go.

What Akechi didn't expect was for Akira's features to morph into steely determination. Akira took another three steps forward and closed the gap between them, grabbing Akechi's wrist.

How _dare_ he?

Akechi ripped his arm away, and the ache in his head near drove him to his hands and knees. He gasped and doubled over, leaning on the nearest pillar for support.

“You're sick,” Akira observed, voice tight. “Dr. Takemi—”

“I'm not...going anywhere,” Akechi choked out. “I'm so close...”

“...What happened to your neck?”

Akechi's hand flew to his throat at once, as if he could hide the bruises Akira had already seen.

“It's nothing,” Akechi said, forcing himself to stand straight. “Please. You need to leave.”

Akira stared hard at Akechi and slowly, slowly shook his head. His stern gaze and the firm set of his jaw communicated wholly his intention to stay right where he was.

“Leave,” Akechi hissed. “Now. Before I...before I...Nng!”

The world went black for a moment, and when it returned, Akira had his arms around him, holding him up. His touch felt like fire. Akechi pushed Akira away with more force than he intended. Akira staggered backwards, anger flashing in his normally cool eyes.

“I understand if you don't want to come with me,” Akira said, quietly, “but if you go through with what you're planning, I'll confess. I'll confess everything.”

Akechi couldn't help himself. He laughed. It was a bitter, cold sound, even to his own ears.

“Confess? You think the police don't already know everything? They know what you've done, and why you did it. They know what _I've_ done, and why I did it. You really think they'll let me go after that?”

Softly, Akira said, “I'll tell them I made you do it.”

That was exactly what Akechi didn't want to hear. He didn't want Akira's forgiveness. He didn't want his pity. He didn't want to be _saved_. He didn't need it. He didn't deserve it.

“I wish,” said Akechi, quietly, quietly, “that I'd never met you.”

How much simpler things would be. How easily he could have gone on doing what he was doing without fear, without second-thoughts, without regret. Akira Kurusu had well and truly ruined everything. And now, he was trying to ruin everything again.

“You don't mean that,” Akira returned, his voice and eyes so very steady.

Akechi hated that about Akira. That he could be so damn sure of himself all the time. Akechi wanted to break him so slowly, so painfully, that all that was left of Akira in his memory were his screams.

_Break him destroy him grind him into dust, leave him begging for his life and smile as his ashes scatter in the blood red wind, snap his neck, snap his neck, snap his neck, throw his broken body into the depths of the Metaverse and watch the world forget him, watch yourself forget him—_

The black car pulled up so quietly, and Akechi was so lost in his own thoughts, that he didn't notice it at all until people started pouring out of it. First one bodyguard, all in black, and then another. Last to exit the car was Masayoshi Shido.

Shido moved like a dead man walking; swaying on his feet, swinging his arms unnaturally. The bodyguards tried to hide this by standing close to him, but Shido pushed them away with undisguised rage. Even from a distance, Akechi could see that his plan had worked all too well. All that was left to do was to get Shido to confess everything in his unguarded state.

He pushed past Akira and moved towards Shido, reaching for his phone on the way. Akira grabbed his arm and stopped him in his tracks.

“Don't,” Akira said, almost, it seemed to Akechi, pleading.

Akechi's heart constricted for a moment, but only a moment. He pulled away from Akira, gently this time, and pulled out his phone.

“This is for your own good,” Akechi whispered, and quickly sent the text to Sae saying that the time had come. He dialed her number, and left the line open. Without looking back at Akira, he said, “Just stand back. Don't get in the way.”

“Goro, please—”

Akechi ignored him, walked briskly toward Shido, who stumbled up the steps.

“Masayoshi Shido,” Akechi said. “You are under arrest for aiding and abetting in the murder of innocent civilians, and for gross political corruption.”

For a moment, there was no look of comprehension in Shido's all-white eyes and sagging jaw. His bodyguards scowled and, realizing what was happening, tried to push Shido back towards the car. It was too late, though. The Shido they knew was gone. All that was left was his shell of a broken mind.

Shido's slack-jawed look became a wild grin as he tore free of his bodyguards and stumbled his way up to Akechi.

“You...You think you can get rid of me? I am the one who will lead Japan into the future. They _need_ me. And what are you? Nothing. Nothing, and no one.”

“Be that as it may,” Akechi answered, “your time as a politician is done. You've caused a great deal of harm, and the law will see that you pay for your crimes.”

Shido laughed, a loud, wild guffaw that drew the attention of the people going in and out of the Diet Building.

“Everything I've done,” Shido shouted, “has been for the sake of uplifting our country. Sheep need a shepherd. Passengers need a captain! Who will steer this country, if not me? So there were a few sacrifices. Their lives are nothing compared to mine.”

And there was the confession that Akechi needed. He held his phone up high, and police flooded the area from behind the trees, surrounding them on all sides, guns out. Shido looked around him, primal rage twisting his features into something ugly, something almost inhuman.

“Go quietly,” Akechi warned him, even knowing that it would be impossible for someone who had gone berserk. He more than expected violence, which was why he'd told Sae to arrange for such a large task force.

Before Shido could make a move, the police moved in and surrounded him. Soon, they had him handcuffed, and were leading him away.

Akechi sighed in relief. It all went off even more perfectly than he could have hoped. Akira showing up was the only hiccup in his plan, but he ultimately didn't interfere, so the problem was a minute one in the grand scheme of things. Never mind that Akechi's head still throbbed, and the world still swayed from side-to-side. He would need to ask for stronger painkillers, stat.

He was just walking back up the steps when he shifted into the Metaverse for a second time.

_You really thought it would be so simple?_

He shifted back into the real world just in time to see Akira's wide eyes, to see Akira reaching out for him, to barely hear his name leave Akira's lips in a horrified shout.

And then hands twisted into the back of his jacket, large and rough. More shouting, from multiple people. The sound of struggling. His vision swirled as he fell forward, unable to throw his hands out to catch himself. His head was already splitting with pain, so he hardly felt it when he struck the concrete. He hardly felt it when those rough fingers knotted into his hair and smashed his head down again, and again, and again.

His vision went red, then black, then red again. He couldn't tell up from down, nor where his body ended and the ground began. He blinked, only vaguely realizing that whoever had attacked him was gone.

Akechi tried to move, but he couldn't even find his hands to push himself up. There was so much blood...was it his? He couldn't tell. His head hurt. It hurt so much, he couldn't even scream. Someone screamed, though. Called his name. Someone lifted him, gently, so gently.

“Goro! Goro, hold on!”

He squinted his eyes, trying to configure the dark shape looming over him into something remotely recognizable. His vision faded in and out, making it a hopeless task.

“Call an ambulance,” someone shouted, voice full of command. A woman. Sae Niijima. “Don't move him too much.”

Even though she said that, whoever held him trembled. Water droplets struck his face. His body felt so heavy, and so cold, and whoever held him was warm. He nuzzled into that warmth, trying to absorb it. It didn't really work all that well. He sighed, releasing some of the heaviness gathering in his chest. He was so tired, suddenly. He just wanted to sleep.

“No,” said the person holding him, touching his face. “No, don't sleep. Stay with me, Goro. The ambulance is coming. Don't sleep.”

“A...Akira...”

He recognized the voice at last. Akira Kurusu, holding tight to him even now. Even after he'd said and thought those cruel, horrible things. He wished he'd never met him. He wished...he wished...

“Akira,” he said again, and Akira's grip tightened.

“My name...” Akira said. “You said my name.”

Akechi laughed, lightly.

“I suppose I did.”

“Say it again.”

“A...kira...”

“Again.”

“A...ki...”

The arms around him gripped him tighter still. It was almost painful, how tightly Akira held him, but he found comfort in it, too. It almost felt, with Akira holding him like this, like he might really exist after all.

He laughed at that, and then coughed. Copper filled his mouth. It tasted awful. He just wanted it to go away. He wanted...he wanted...

He wanted Akira. Of course he did. What else? Even now, addled and in pain as he was, his heart still stuttered, and butterflies still tickled at his stomach, just at the thought of being in Akira's arms.

“Kiss me,” he demanded, with strength only enough to whisper.

Akira pulled him closer still and kissed him as gently as ever, slowly, desperately. It felt so nice, almost nice enough to make him forget about the blood smeared across his lips. His thoughts were disjointed, though, and fading, and sleep seemed so, so sweet. Akechi only snapped back to attention when Akira started stroking his cheek.

“It's fine,” Akira murmured. “You're gonna be fine.”

Akechi couldn't really tell if Akira was talking to him, or talking to himself. Either way, it was nice to listen to his voice. It was getting hard to concentrate, hard to form words, much less coherent thoughts, but he had to say one thing. One thing, if it was the last thing he ever said. He had to say it for himself, as much as anybody else.

“Akira...” he began, tasting copper again. “Akira, I...love you.”

The words sounded so foreign leaving his mouth that he broke into a fit of weak laughter. He said it again, and again, and again, until it was utterly senseless. Between each confession, more laughter, and more still. Salt mixed with the copper, and he realized he was crying. But why was he crying? There was nothing to cry about. Akira was safe. Akira was safe from Shido, safe from the police. Safe from Akechi. Everything had worked out just fine.

“I love you,” Akira said, clutching at Akechi, murmuring against his face. “I love you, Goro. Please...please, don't go.”

It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Harder to think. Harder to feel. Akechi coughed, a pathetic sound that was more like a strangled gag. His mind fogged. He felt like he was floating away. Even Akira's voice echoed distantly, a far off and beloved song.

_I warned you it wouldn't be so simple. You could have saved yourself._

Akechi was too tired to care about the god speaking to him now. He only smiled, or tried to. Akira murmured something against his lips, but Akechi couldn't hear him anymore. The world had gone white, and the only sound that reached him was a high pitched ringing. His heart beat slow and heavy in his chest.

“Akira,” he said, forced himself to say. “...happy. ...'m...ha...”

If Akira answered him, he didn't hear it. His breath came out in small, helpless puffs.

From one moment to the next, Akechi didn't breathe at all. 

 


End file.
